


Written Words

by WilderMind



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Child Death, Gen, Slight Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 18:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6483271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilderMind/pseuds/WilderMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The son finds the letter in a display case. It's full of a parent's love, of things that'll never be said, of could have's and would have's that might have happened, if the world hadn't been so cruel.</p><p>(The father finds the letter in his son's pocket. It's full of a child's love, of things that'll never be said, of could have's and would have's that might have happened, if the world didn't tear everything away from him.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written Words

**Author's Note:**

> wayne boys angst is coming. brace yourselves. (because i'm perpetually 3 years behind on comic emotions)
> 
> i changed some stuff for angst reasons. it was on purpose, i swear.
> 
> also some random damian wayne meta at the end.
> 
> and a reference to a certain Endless if you squint.

The son finds the letter in a display case. He knows who it's from. He reads through it, with one side of his mind telling him to stop, that it isn't his to read, isn't his to know, and the other side burning with an innate, childlike curiosity. 

(He knows, deep down, that that curiosity is his skill as a detective, like his father before him. It isn't childish, he knows, because despite his age, that he is not a child, nor is he childish in the least. He once tried to explain this to Grayson, who snorted, and rustled his hair with a _Sure, Dami._ He had scowled, and crossed his arms, and said it again, louder. But Grayson had simply nodded, and hadn't looked convinced, exchanging a look with Pennyworth. That irritated him immensely. He tripped Grayson while he was walking down the stairs that night. Twice.)

He knows the letter is not meant for him. It's full of a parent's love, of things that'll never be said, of could have's and would have's that might have happened, if the world hadn't been so cruel. He doesn't know what it means. 

His father comes in while he's reading and he scurries off, pretending that he hadn't paused there. His father doesn't talk about it, the letter, and Damian doesn't mention it. He doesn't mention the name on the bottom, the soft curve of the signature that reads _Love always, your father, Thomas Wayne_ , or the words inside that read _I'm proud of you_ , or the ones that read _dear son_. 

_Dear son._

_I'm proud of you._

_Love always._

_Your Father._

_Thomas Wayne._

He wonders if his father is proud of him. 

He doesn't ask.

* * *

One night they're on patrol, and they get wind of Bane kidnapping a group of civilians for some unknown purpose. He disobeys his father (who tells him to wait until he can make sure everything is clear), and sneaks in (they are obviously going to be used as hostages, which will make their job harder in the future), and manages to break out a few of them, leading them to safety. But he was careless and cocky, and tries to take on the mammoth of a man himself. 

He lasts a good while, even manages to get some hits in before a hostage, wanders into the fight, and Damian, in all his stupidity, takes a blow meant for them, ending up knocked against the wall. The crack runs through his spine, and his head, and everything goes dark, and he doesn't remember much after that.

When his father arrives, he in the man's iron grip, dazed and barely conscious, neck seconds from being snapped. (He doesn't see how his father moves immediately, how his stomach dropped, how scared he was, how angry.) Damian himself distantly feels terrified, he doesn't want to die, but his body won't move, and his thoughts are moving too sluggishly. He feels himself fall down, and hears the distant shouts of something, a fight. 

(Is that his father? It sounds like father. He wants his father.  _He wants his father_.)

He tries to get up, barely managing to open his eyes. His father is there, running towards him, leaning down close, whispering his name, and he's shaking his shoulders, and clutching him tight.

_Damian, Damian. Come on, Damian. It's okay. You have to be okay._

Damian doesn't cry. Something deep down inside him wants to, but it's drowned out by his mother's voice telling him he's too old for that, and his grandfather's stern glare. He's not a child, and he doesn't cry. 

He's carried back to Wayne Manor (and he doesn't remember much of the drive, or his father running into the cave, yelling _Alfred, Alfred. It's Damian. Damian's hurt_. He doesn't remember Pennyworth bandaging up his head and broken rips, or how Grayson had stopped by, only to freeze in horror at the sight of Damian's near motionless body), but he is awake enough at one point to hear Pennyworth's voice,  and Grayson's. He shifts on his side, and watches as Grayson paces, and Pennyworth tries to calm him down, and his father just sits, head in his hand. Titus sits next to them, head down, looking dejected, and Damian calls out to him. He wants his dog. 

_Titus. Come here._

They all look at him, and Titus bounds over, and jumps on the bed, wagging his tail, licking Damian's face, and Pennyworth tries shoo him away. (The dog refuses to move.)

Grayson grins when he walks up, looking relieved, any hints of fear gone from his face. He rustled his hair lightly, and his grin grows brighter when Damian batted his away in irritation. 

_Good to see you up, Dami. Had us all a bit worried._

_I'm perfectly fine, Grayson. There was no need to worry. I'm not **you**. I know how to handle myself._

_I'm not the one with the concussion, kiddo._

Damian glances at his father, who remains silent, face unreadable. 

He feels like he failed, somehow. 

Pennyworth announces soon after that he needs to rest, and Grayson follows. His father stays behind, and Damian can't look him in the eye. 

 _I'm sorry, father-_  he begins, and his father puts his hand on his shoulder, and doesn't say anything. For a moment, he can see the man behind the mask (the fear, the guilt, the pain), and it scares him. He has always known the Batman as a godlike figure, since those dark bedtime stories his mother told him, back when he was a child, back when he still called her mama, back when he wore his father's cowl). 

 _Get some rest, Damian. We'll talk in the morning._  

Damian lays back down, arms wrapped around Titus, and his father sits back down in the chair. He stays there the entire night. 

* * *

After days of wondering if he should, he hesitantly asked Pennyworth about the man who wrote the letter, what he was like. He's seen the pictures of course, he knows the faces of the people who died to make his father who he is. He pretends not to care, with a shrug, and a careless tone.

_What was my grandfather like?_

Pennyworth pauses.

_Your father's father?_

Damian nods, biting back a sharp remark. _Obviously_.  _Of course that's who, Pennyworth. I knew my other one._ He makes an effort to be sincere. He truly wants to know.

The butler pauses again, looking thoughtful. 

_He was a good man._

Damian wonders what that means (a good man like his father? A good man like Grayson? Good has never seemed important before). He doesn't say it out loud, because before he could say anything else, his father is walking back in.

Damian doesn't mention the letter in the cave. 

No one does. 

* * *

When his father first tells him that he's proud of him, he doesn't know what to do. 

His father is proud of him. 

It feels like he's come into his own birthright, of a father pride. 

It's better than anything his grandfather promised him. 

* * *

(The father finds the letter in his son's pocket. He knows who it's from. He reads through it, with one side of his mind telling him to stop, that he can't bear any more pain, that his heart has been broken enough, and the other side burning with an innate curiosity to know what his son's last words are.

The boy has been buried. The house is silent. The city seems to be too (at the base of the bat signal, criminals lie moaning, and groaning. His knuckles were bruises, and every muscle burns, but more tonight then ever, he can't bring himself to care. 

The letter is meant for him, in each curve of letter, in the simple _Father,_  the  _You need me and I will always be at your side_ , the _Mother may have given me life, but you taught me how to live._ (Because both him and Talia were responsible for their son's death. He played a part, he knew he played a part.) It's a letter full of a child's love, of things that'll never be said, of could have's and would have's that might have happened, if the world didn't tear everything away from him.

He screams.

Damian's dog flinches away. His fists beat against the locker, and the Robin suit goes flying. He feels every emotion he tried to keep pressed down, all the _rage_ , and _guilt_ , and _sorrow_ , and _hatred_ , come exploding to the surface, as the red batarangs fly, and so does his own blood, and he can't stop. The metal bends beneath his fists, and he screams again.

His son is dead. 

His child is dead. 

(It's like Jason all over again... but Jason had come back, he had come back, and Damian wasn't. Damian wasn't coming back. _Why couldn't he protect his children? Why did he bring them down this path with him?_ )

He sees the Robin outfit scattered on the floor, so similar to his son's body, to Damian's bloody, broken body (shattered spine, arrow wounds, cracked skull, and a stab wound through his heart), and something in him breaks even more.

He falls to his knees, scooping up the costume, and he's crying, he's crying. 

(He remembers running from the safe under the pool, while Talia's voice taunted him, and knowing he wouldn't be too late, he wouldn't be too late again, not too late to save  another one of his sons. 

He remembers seeing Damian's body, and not believing it. 

Not believing that his son was lying there. Not believing that his pulse wasn't there, that he wasn't breathing, not believing that his son was gone.)

 _I'm sorry,_   _Damian_ , he says, so quietly he can barely hear it himself. _I failed you. I'm sorry._

The letter lies to the side, crumpled now. (The father won't display the letter like he did with his father's. He'll it hidden. He won't read it again. Not until Damian is brought back. He remembers what it says. He always will.)

As he sits there rocking back and forth, alone, his reflection fragmented in the twisted metal of the locker, he's able to put a name to all the emotions running through him. One word to tie everything together. 

It's despair.)

**Author's Note:**

> dami is my son, even if he's a lil bit of a jerk, but i want everyone to remember what a shitty life this poor boy has had (looking at you comic writers). like he was raised to kill always being told of his birthright when just like that it's all ripped away from him, and he's basically thrown at this emotionally detached stranger (with other kids who he sees as threatening his place in the family bc the league of assassins fucked this boy up), who then DIES, and also he has to relearn everything he thought he knew about morality, and it's just a tough situation. like remember how young he is. no matter what he does, or how he acts, he still a child (insecure and scared for all his bravado)   
> (he was probably only 10 or 11 when he died in a really horrifif way, killed basically by his own mother how fucked up is that. i know he comes back but still jfc)   
> (i could write so much meta on this poor kid srsly)


End file.
